


Free Drinks and Latte Hearts

by keithsgaycousin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Keith (Voltron), Barista Pidge (Voltron), Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, No Angst, Slow Build, coffeeshopAU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithsgaycousin/pseuds/keithsgaycousin
Summary: Just a wholesome CoffeeShop AU where Keith is a barista that begins to fall for a regular.
Relationships: Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 16
Kudos: 130





	Free Drinks and Latte Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I have coffeeshopAU brainrot because 1) it's so pure and I love it 2) I'm a barista and I like to pretend this happens in real life (when it doesn't lol)
> 
> Also! Each break in the story signifies a different shift. They are also only from the shifts that are relevant to the plot and stuff…so this happens over a span of months lol.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!! :D

* * *

Keith pulls for another shot, the grinding of the beans loudly shouting across the coffee shop. Metal hits metal as Keith evens out the grinds to prep for tamping.

Not too hard, not too soft. 

Enough weight for the perfect shot.

While letting it pull, he quickly grabs the appropriate sized cup and pours the measurements into it. Labeling the cup with a quick “CCL” in bright red ink, he hears his coworkers idly chatting around him; talking about their day, school, or about a customer that was a little too aggressive.

The most prominent voice is coming from his coworker on drive; exchanging drinks and sizes and small talk that Keith hates being a part of. In-between them taking orders, they also charge the customers at the window and heat up pastries and smile a lot…Keith is glad that his supervisors know that he prefers to be on bar over being on drive.

He sets the labeled cup next to the steaming wand and pours the milk into the pitcher.

“Kogane. I already prepped that cup,” says a shorter barista, whose hair is a tangled mess between their headset and bandana. She is wearing a smug look underneath her round glasses. Keith rubs his hair out of his face and stares at the two identically made cups.

“I’ll just steam for both and hand out one for free. No biggie.”

“How dare you waste company resources.”

“ _Shut up_.” She laughs and walks away to continue restocking the cups.

He steams for both; stretching the milk until it is the perfect consistency. He finishes off the second drink with a small latte heart and walks them over to the counter next to the window. He sees that his coworker on drive is not there, so he decides to hand them out himself.

He scrunches down and gently leans out of the window with the two drinks. He’s met with a younger man, probably in his early 20s, driving a beat up car. Keith gives his most convincing customer service smile.

“Hey. We accidentally made an extra of your drink. Would you like it?…It’s free, of course.”

“Oh, yeah! Thank you!”

“No problem. Have a good one.”

Just like that, the customer drives off and Keith goes back to prep more drinks.

* * *

Another day of consistent customers, which Keith doesn’t mind. When it’s busy, the shift goes by quickly. The quicker the shift, the quicker he can get home and sleep. He pulls another shot and pours it into the mug on the counter.

_ It’s oat milk. _

_ This drink has oat milk. _

_ Oat milk. _

_ Grab the oat milk. _

Now, why on Earth does Keith steam half and half? He doesn’t know… and neither does his coworker.

“Do we have a drink that needs half and half? I have it steamed.”

“Yeah! Hold up—” Says his coworker, Romelle, as she quickly grabs a cup and crushes raw sugar into the espresso for him. He swirls the milk in the pitcher to keep the milk alive, while she walks the cup over. He pours it and makes a cute little latte heart. He caps it and labels the cup with a bright red ‘CCL’.

He walks it over to the counter and sees that there already is a ‘CCL’ sitting there (ready to hand out.) Did he already make one? He turns to look at the screen and sees that he forgot to tap it as ‘complete.’ He rubs his temple with his free hand. 

“Anyone want a cubano before I hand it out?” A series of ‘no’s come from his coworkers. He turns and grabs the second drink and leans out the window. He’s met with a familiar face—it’s the same guy as last time.

“Oh…hi,” says the barista. He suddenly is aware of how dumb he probably looks with his hair pulled back with his black headband and his hands full (again) with two drinks.

“Hey! It’s you again!”

“Uh…yeah.” Keith shrinks a bit.

There’s an awkward pause…awkward for Keith at least, as he stares at the customer. He shakes his head to snap himself back to reality.

“Um…we accidentally made an extra of your drink…again. Would you like it?…It’s free, of course…” He looks away from the piercing eyes of the customer that light up with the news.

“ _No way_ ,” he says in disbelief, giving Keith a smile that is too bright for his own good.

“Y-you don’t have to take it if you don’t want—” says Keith, shrinking back into the window.

“Wait, no! I would like it, thank you—I’m just shocked that this happened twice in a row!” 

_Yeah, me too, dude._

He hands over the drinks to him and receives a shy wave in return. Keith goes back to making drinks.

* * *

“Keith.”

“What’s up?”

“Can you cover Romelle for her 30?”

He takes her headset and begins taking orders. The repetitive nature of the job is comforting in a way, despite him hating the position. A drink, then the size, then asking if they want anything else. Repeat that process until the end of the shift. He falls into the rhythm, taking orders, charging the customers at the window, heating up pastries, handing out drinks. Repeat. It’s nice. 

_Beeping._

_“Hi, welcome to Marmora Coffee. What can I get for you?”_

_“Hello. Can I get a medium cubano, please?”_

_“Of course. Anything else?”_

_“No, that’s it.”_

_“Alright. One medium cubano will be $4.95 at the window, thank you.”_

_Beeping._

_“Hi, welcome to Marmora Coffee. What can I get for you?”_

The window opens, Keith ready with the total.

“Hi, that will be $4.95—”

“Hey—it’s _you_.” The customer says it too expectantly. Keith tries to hide his discomfort.

“No—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound creepy. It’s just—you probably think I’m addicted to coffee or something…” He says the next part in a slightly deeper voice, “like… ‘why does this guy come here almost everyday?’ type of thing…” Keith stares at him, trying to process everything the guy said to him. The customer continues to ramble.

“Oh! Here’s my card. I’m sorry—I forgot to have it ready.” His eyes dart around at everything, but never land on Keith.

“Uh…it’s okay. We have plenty of regulars, so we don’t really think anything of it.” He laughs to try and dissolve some of the awkwardness he is feeling. He turns from the window and swipes the customer’s card. He pokes his head out and asks if he wants his receipt. With his answer, Keith crumples the paper in his free hand and hands back only the card. He also grabs the drink.

“…and here is your drink. Have a good—”

“—do you guys take tips?”

Silence.

“Uh, yeah we do…” Keith laughs, mostly to himself.

“Sweet,” he grabs his drink and then proceeds to hand the barista a dollar bill, “have a good day.” The customer then speeds out of the drive thru, leaving Keith without words. He unwraps the money that was handed to him and sees a 10 dollar bill wrapped in the 1 dollar bill.

“Eleven dollars?” asks one of his coworker in disbelief.

“Jeez. We should have you on drive more often, Kogane!” teases Katie. He just rolls his eyes and checks to see if they have anymore of the blueberry muffins for a customer.

* * *

Keith notices that he is paying a little too much attention to the orders than normal—every time a cubano shows up onto the screen, his heart jumps a little. _Stupid_.

He is asked to make some bases, which makes Keith kind of sad—which also makes Keith question his brain…Since when does he get sad when he gets to work in the back? Never. Making bases has always been one of his favorite tasks to do; he gets to work alone and doesn’t have to interact with any customers and deal with their bullshit…so why is he a little disappointed to not be on bar?

* * *

_2x medium cubanos._

_small caramel macchiato —iced_

Keith steams for the cubanos without a second thought, also pulling the last shot for the iced drink on the screen. He finishes the two hot drinks and goes to complete the iced drink, stirring the espresso into the caramel and vanilla and then mixing all of it with whole milk. 

He gently places the three drinks onto the counter and readjusts his headset.

“Do they want a cupholder?” 

“I don’t know. I forgot to ask.” He nods and hits the sensor to open the window. He is met with a smiling face, their eyes lighting up when he sees him. There is another person in the passenger seat that heavily resembles the person driving.

“ _Hey_ ,” says the customer, sounding a little out of breath.

“Hi.”

Keith looks away from the other, momentarily forgetting the reason he opened the window in the first place.

_Cupholder._

“Um—Would you like a cupholder?”

“Yes please.”

“Cool.” Keith flashes him a small smile and a nod.

He grabs a cupholder and places the three drinks carefully inside of it. He puts the two medium drinks on opposite sides to balance it out and places the small drink in one of the remaining slots. The window opens again.

Keith slips his hand out of the window and hands over the drink carrier, “um, thank you for the tip the other day…you really didn’t have to, y’know.”

“Dude. You gave me TWO free drinks!” Says the other boy.

“…because _I_ messed up…” states Keith, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Keith’s headset begins softly beeping and Pidge’s voice can be heard in his ear.

_“Stop flirting with the customers, Kogane.”_

Keith’s body freezes for a split second, Pidge’s laughter can be heard from inside.

“Uh…” Keith’s voice is quiet as he gestures to the bar, “I, uh, have to get back. Have a good one.”

“Of course! Those drinks won’t steam themselves!” 

The customer quickly drives away, soft laughter can be heard from the person in the passenger seat. Keith pretends he didn’t see the other’s disappointment at having to stop their conversation. 

Keith turns around and is met with a couple of stares from his coworkers. Pidge has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face and is whispering to another coworker…as if she knows something. He ignores her as he goes to prep the next order.

* * *

It is one of those days where everyone seems to be clumsier than normal—at least, that’s what Keith is getting at. Between Pidge dropping an entire frappe base on the floor and Romelle handing out the wrong pastries on multiple occasions, the day has not been going as smoothly as it normally does.

Keith is on drive when all hell breaks loose…at least, in his brain it does. It starts with Keith taking an order—a medium cubano. A normal order, really. A drink almost everyone orders…but Keith recognizes the voice. He pretends that he isn’t as nervous as he is.

Keith charges the next car as normal, swiping their card and handing them their receipt. As he goes to hand out their two frappes, the person’s grip slips and proceeds to drop them all over the ground in between the window and their car. Keith can feel his eye begin to twitch.

“I am so sorry! We’ll remake those right now—I’m so sorry!” The customer just gives him a judgmental glare and asks for some napkins. After, Keith manually closes the window and tells his coworkers on bar that they have to remake the two drinks.

The next order, the woman yells at him because she ordered her drinks iced and not hot. He sets her drinks aside and has to tell his coworkers that he needs two iced white mochas for window. Keith’s eye is actually twitching now.

He hands out the drinks quickly after, praying that the next customer is easier than the last two. When the window opens, he is met with the familiar smile of the ‘cubano’ guy, who has his card ready in his hand. He forgot that he was in line—

“Hey.”

“Hi…It’ll be $4.95.” He takes his card, quickly glancing at the two extra drinks on the counter. He returns his card with the receipt, a question quickly leaving his lips.

“Would you like a free drink?”

The other boy leans both of his arms on his car and leans toward the coffee shop window. “ _Sure_.”

Keith quickly turns away and comes back with two drinks. This time, Keith finds himself being the one to ramble; his nerves finally getting to him.

“This one…is your cubano. Um, this one is a white mocha! It’s personally one of my favorite drinks, so I hope you like it…but it’s okay if you don’t! Um, yeah. We also have a second one, but I doubt you want two extra drinks in addition to the one you already bought…it’s just that the lady in front of you wanted them iced, but we made them hot and we had to remake them…” 

The customer looks at the barista in utter fascination. This is the most he’s heard him talk and he doesn’t want him to stop.

“Well, _thank you_. I feel so spoiled whenever I come here.” He glances at his free drink and shoots the other a genuine smile. Keith returns the smile and quickly waves him off to try and hide his embarrassment.

“ _Of course…anytime_ ,” whispers Keith as the other drives away.

* * *

Keith is scrunched down and scrubbing away at the drain underneath the main sink on bar. His hair is completely tied back and his hands are covered by gloves. The bleach is kind of burning his nose and making his eyes water.

“You don’t even know his name.”

Keith sniffles and rests his arm on his knee to look up at his coworker. “And?”

“Does he usually pay with cash or card?”

“…card. Why does that matter?”

“His name is on his card, _dumbass_.”

“Pidge, no. That’s creepy.”

“I really don’t think he would mind…” she says smugly, as she shakes the whipped cream to charge it. There’s a silence.

“You’re a fucking creep.”

* * *

Keith sets a mug with pumps of chocolate and espresso on the counter next to him.

“How much money would it take for you to ask for his name?”

“ _Go away_ ,” says Keith, turning his body away from the person speaking. He stretches the soy milk and pours it into the mug, making sure to make the rosetta symmetrical. He carefully places it on the counter and yells the name out into the lobby.

“I’m just trying to help you, my guy. I know you think he’s cute…”

“ _I’m going on my ten_.”

* * *

Keith is stuck on front register for the last hour of his shift; taking orders face to face and dying a little inside with every passing minute. No matter how fast he takes the orders, the line will simply not die down…and he is starting to feel his feet ache. He turns to warm up a pastry for a customer. 

After handing the customer their muffin, he is met with the next person in line…and Keith almost has a heart attack—

It’s a younger guy, probably in his early twenties. His short, dark brown hair neatly falls onto his forehead and has eyes that match the light blue shirt he is wearing. He’s holding a book, has a backpack hanging off of his shoulder, and stands taller than Keith expected. He is also wearing the stupidly familiar smile on his face—Keith thinks he might die.

“Hey,” says the customer; who is standing in front of him—and not sitting in a car. Not in a car that separates them completely. Now he’s inside and is so much more _real…_ and Keith is freaking out.

“Hi.”

They look at each other. 

Keith clears his throat. “ _Welcome_. Um, what can I get for you today?” That snaps the other boy back to reality.

“Um…can I have the drink you gave me the other day?” Keith tilts his head in confusion; feigning ignorance.

“Y-you said it was your favorite drink…”

“Oh! Yeah…what size?”

“Medium will be good.”

“Do you want it ‘for here’ or ‘to go’?”

“What’s the difference?” The customer asks; as if he doesn’t know the difference.

“If you get it ‘for here’, it comes in a mug. You also get latte art on it.”

“ _For here_ , then,” he says with a smile.

“Cool. Anything else?”

“Nope!” He says, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“Okay…that will be $4.95…and can I get a name for your order?”

“Lance.”

“ _Lance_ ,” mumbles the barista to himself as he types it into the machine. He tries to hide the blush that it probably blooming on his face. 

He continues, “They’ll call your name when it’s ready.” 

The other boy nods and walks away. Keith feels like he is going to combust. He takes a deep breath and greets the next customer in line.

He tries to forget that Lance is sitting in the lobby the whole time…

He fails.

* * *

Keith is in the back grabbing ice for cold bar, when he accidentally knocks into Romelle, who ends up spilling some of the hot water that is in the cup she’s holding.

“Oh my— _Are you okay_?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. No need to worry!”

“Do you need the burn cream?”

“No, it’s okay! I can get it myself. Can you finish the two drinks on the counter, though?”

He nods, grabs the mugs, and begins steaming for them. The first one is a Mexican hot chocolate, so he can’t make a design. The second drink is a white mocha. He decides to do a latte heart, and tops it off with whip cream on half of it. He looks up at the screen to see the name—

Lance.

Keith rereads the name.

_Lance_.

Oh my god—and he did a heart! _A heart!_ He would have done a rosetta if he would have known it was for him! Rosettas are so much cooler…

“Order for…Lance!” says Keith, making sure his voice is steady. He sees a taller figure stand in his peripheral. He tries to distract himself by beginning to steam another drink.

This leads to another problem: now Lance is standing at the counter and Keith has milk to pour into another mug…which means he now has to do the latte at _in front_ of him. Keith curses in his mind.

He grabs the mug in his right hand, steadying the pitcher of milk in his left. He begins pouring slowly into the tilted mug; starting with slow, even circles to fill the cup. He slowly tilts the mug slower and slower as the milk level rises. He pauses and dips the pitcher tip lower to the milk and espresso mixture—wiggling and wiggling to create the leaves of the rosetta. With the cup now level, he slows down the pour and cuts a line down the middle of the art, creating the stem.

He finishes and feels a pair of eyes staring at him. Looking up, he is met with an impressed looking Lance.

“Dude, I was scared to breathe while you did that! That was seriously _so cool_!”

Keith turns his eyes away, slightly embarrassed. “It’s no big deal, really…”

“I-I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have watched if I knew it made you uncomfortable! I just wanted to be able to thank you properly.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem…Just doin’ my job,” He laughs awkwardly and kicks himself for saying that.

Lance smiles and grabs his two mugs, being careful to balance them properly to avoid spilling. He gives Keith a small smile and walks away.

He pushes the latte he just poured toward the opposite side of the counter.

“ _Order for Kinkade_.”

* * *

Keith is sweating. 

_Why is it so hot in here?_

He fixes the gloves on his hands before moving another mat from the floor and moving it to the back of the shop. He excuses himself as he gets in his coworker’s way while dragging it across the bar. After grabbing the final mat, he wipes his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and takes off his dirty gloves. He tries to steady his breathing as well.

“Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do a lobby check? You can take your last ten after.” He ties his hair back and nods, grabbing new gloves. He checks the trashes in the patio and in the lobby, wipes down dirty tables, and grabs all of the empty mugs.

He freezes when he hears a familiar voice to his left. He takes a quick peak and confirms in his mind that it is, in fact, the Lance guy. He quickly turns away and beelines to the back of the shop.

Romelle observes him as he quickly walks past her and heads straight to the sink in the back. She looks confused. She gives Pidge a quick look, who responds with a smirk. She follows the boy to the back.

“So…how’s it going?”

“ _Fine_ ,” says Keith as he carefully places the mugs one-by-one into the sink.

“Yeah, _that’s_ convincing, Kogane.”

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe because ‘ _cubano guy_ ’ is here?”

“Shut up.” A blush involuntarily creeps onto his cheeks.

“You didn’t deny it.”

Keith stays silent, shooting her a half-assed glare. With that, he walks away to take his break.

* * *

“ _His name is Lance_.”

“Ah, so I see you finally grew some balls,” says Katie as she pours a cup of ice into the blender and covers it with the lid. 

“Well, I took his order…so.”

She clicks the small ‘3’ button; the sound of the blender drowning out the rest of their conversation. She doesn’t look phased with the news.

* * *

It’s 10 minutes until closing and Keith is exhausted. Today had been a series of rushes with no time in-between to restock or regain sanity…and Keith was shocked that his hand wasn’t permanently burned from steaming so many drinks.

He’s almost done wiping the last counter top when a customer pulls through the drive thru. Keith’s headset begins beeping.

_“Hi, welcome to Marmora Coffee. What can I get for you?”_

_“Oh, cool. You guys are still open!”_

_Keith stays silent._

_“Um, I’ll have a medium cubano, please…and that’ll be it!”_

_“Okay. That’ll be $4.95 at the window, thank you.”_

_“Thank YOU!”_

Keith chuckles to himself and ignores the look Pidge is giving him. He quickly preps the drink for her to steam and walks over to the window to charge the customer.

“ _Hey_.”

“Hi,” replies the barista.

“I knew it was you!” Keith holds in his laughter, “What time do you guys close, anyway?”

“Eleven.”

He looks at the clock in his car, “Oh shit—I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize—”

“No! It’s okay!” blurts Keith, waving his hands around in worry. Normally, he _would_ be kind of mad that someone came so close to closing…but this was a different matter…

“Are you sure? I feel so bad—”

“Really, man. It’s okay.” There’s a somewhat awkward pause between conversations as Keith swipes his card.

“Would you like a pastry? We’re about to close…and we throw them out, anyway.”

Lance is hesitant. “I mean, if you’re just going to throw them out…” Keith’s eyes light up in excitement as he leaves the window. He comes back quickly to ask if he wants the pastry warmed up. Lance says yes.

Keith comes back with a muffin in a light purple pastry bag with a couple of napkins.

“It’s a churro muffin…It’s one of my favorites,” says the barista, a shy blush creeping up his neck.

Lance carefully takes the pastry and napkins from his hands, as well as his drink.

“Thank you.”

“ _It’s Keith_.”

“Well…thank you, _Keith_. I really appreciate it.” He gives him a smile and drives off.

Keith doesn’t stop smiling, even when he gets home.

* * *

Keith is wiping the tables on the patio and stacking chairs when he hears someone call his name from a car driving past the coffeeshop. Keith strains his eyes to get a better look at who it is in the darkness of the night.

Once his eyes focus, he laughs and sends the car a small smile and waves.

* * *

It’s a quiet night; the customers coming in small groups and not ordering anything too complicated. Keith is grateful, but is also falling asleep. He hears Pidge taking an order, so he walks closer to her to try and hear it.

A cubano? It’s like, 10 o’clock.

Keith pulls one of the two shots of espresso needed to make the drink and preps the sugar in the cup. Once done, he pours the half and half into the pitcher, ready to steam. Pidge waves him off to deal with the customer, while she steams.

“I haven’t crushed the sugar into the espresso, by the way—” 

“Yeah, yeah. Put in a medium cubano, yeah?”

The window opens up to a sleepy-looking Lance. He is wearing an oversized hoodie that looks like is smothering him.

“Hey, Keith.” Keith smiles at him using his name.

“Hi. H-how are you?”

“I’m good. Cold… but good.” He lets out a small laugh and looks at the other boy fondly. It looked like he was going to say something else, but is cut-off when Pidge suddenly slips to Keith’s side. She is holding Lance’s drink and giving him an innocent smile.

“Hey, _McClain_.”

“Hey, Katie.”

Keith looks between the two. _What the fuck_.

“You’re out late. What’s the occasion?” asks Pidge.

“…I needed a break from studying.”

“…and you decided to get coffee at 10 at night?”

“…yes?”

“From THIS specific coffee shop?”

“…yes.”

“Why, though?”

“ _Shut up_. Also—here’s my card. I haven’t been charged yet.” Pidge brushes his hand aside and insists on giving him the drink for free. Keith, still in shock, awkwardly walks over to the espresso machine while they talk, and begins cleaning some of the hard-to-reach places. After a hushed conversation between the two, Lance leaves—not forgetting to say bye to Keith, of course.

Once the window closes, Keith turns to Pidge in disbelief.

“You guys _know_ each other?”

“Well, _yeah_. We went to high school together.”

“…and you didn’t want to mention that _before_ …?”

“Not really. It’s funny watching you guys.” She doesn’t say anything else after. She just grabs the rest of the dishes from bar and takes them back to wash.

_Watching “you guys’?_

* * *

Keith begins walking to his car after a particularly long shift; his feet ache, his head is pounding, and his arms feel sticky from the syrups that splashed him when making drinks.

He sees a figure freeze in the distance, but doesn’t pay it any attention. Soon after, though, the figure slowly becomes bigger and bigger, until Keith turns to face it. 

It’s Lance. He has a backpack resting on his left shoulder and the same large book from last time in his hand.

“ _Hey Keith_!”

He freezes and slowly turns toward the other boy.

“Hi, Lance.”

“You’re off already?” Keith notices that the other boy looks a little nervous.

“Yeah. I worked a mid-shift today.” He fiddles with the apron in his hand. This is the first time they have talked without a physical barrier between them…the first time they’ve talked when Keith isn’t working. 

There is a long silence between the two boys—a silence that is screaming to be filled…a silence that Keith _wants_ Lance to fill. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other to steady himself.

“Okay… I have a question…but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Lance says this to the floor. Instinctively, Keith takes a step back, throwing his apron over one of his shoulders to brace himself.

“Do you— _Would you—_ like to, um. Wait—” Keith tilts his head in confusion, however, doesn’t show any judgement. Keith gives him a nod to encourage him to keep talking.

“Would you possibly want to go out sometime…possibly…? Y’know—to get to know each other a little bit more and stuff…” Keith takes another step back in astonishment.

“B-but you don’t have to say yes, _obviously_ …and if you’re uncomfortable, I _totally_ understand! I really do! I just think you’re really cool—”

“Lance—”

“—and I really want to get to know you more—like as a friend—or not, but like, that would be nice…and I’m sorry—”

“Lance.”

“—I’m so awkward about it. It’s just…I didn’t want to be too forward, and I hope I didn’t read the situation wrong…and I didn’t want to ask Katie for help…and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable at work—”

“ _Lance!_ ” That finally catches his attention. He looks at Keith, who is standing a lot closer than before and resting his hand lightly on his arm.

“I’m sorry!…I was rambling.”

“Don’t be.” Lance bites the side of his cheek as he looks at the other boy, waiting for a response.

“I’m assuming you didn’t hear me say yes, huh?” With that, Lance’s nerves physically deflate off of his body. His eyes light up brightly as he celebrates and Keith watches the other boy fondly.

* * *

_“Welcome to Marmora Coffee. What can I get for you?”_ says a soft voice from the speaker.

_“Hello. I would like a medium cubano…and a medium, hot, white mocha with oat milk.”_

_“Hi, Lance.”_

_“Hi, Katie.”_

_“Pull forward.”_

When Lance pulls forward, he is met with Pidge’s look of fake irritation, “Your favorite isn’t working today…”

“…I know.”

She finally looks completely out of the window and takes in the sight in front of her; It’s Lance driving, with Keith sitting comfortably in the passenger’s seat and staring at his phone intently. She just laughs. Lance holds out his card to her, and she refuses to take it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> My 2 favorite drinks from my work are the Cubano con Leche and the Mocha Blanco lol :p 
> 
> :D
> 
> (also, I'm sorry if there are errors/typos. I wrote it in one sitting and havent been able to edit too much... and I am too excited to not post it tonight lol)


End file.
